


Nobody's Business

by SleepyEye



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Kiss, Implied Sexual Content, Infertility, Past Abuse, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-06-13 05:39:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 18,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15357453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepyEye/pseuds/SleepyEye
Summary: I was super inspired by LulaIsAKitten and her first kiss series, so I thought I might try one. SO FUN. Thanks for the inspiration!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had fun with this. I like incorporating my own issues into the stories. I also love secret relationships, so who knows, maybe I'll add to it. Time will tell.

Robin sat in the Land Rover, watching beautiful people sweat. She was tailing a potentially unfaithful husband, but so far his only fault seemed to be a moderate to severe gym addiction. The gym had conveniently large glass windows, and she watched as her mark jogged in place, sweat shining off his bald head. Their nickname for him was The Thumb-Thumb, after the henchmen in the movie Spy Kids. With his bald head and thick arms and legs, he looked like he had a thumb for every extremity.

Their client, a tall blonde named Laura with a heavy Dutch lilt, had come to them in tears, believing that her husband was cheating. He would come home hours late, and tell his wife that he had spent the whole time at the gym. 

“He’s gone for four or five hours a day,” Laura had sobbed, “Nobody spends that much time at the gym.” But Robin had been here for an hour already, and it seemed that somebody did. It was an Equinox Gym, the kind that had recently been sprouting up all over London with the strange billboards showing men covered in bees, or women breastfeeding two babies while eating raw hamburger. It was the kind of gym that made CrossFit look like a Planet Fitness, and catered almost exclusively to the financiers and techies of Matthew’s social class. Robin loved her own gym, where she took classes in zumba and kickboxing. Her gym was owned and run by women, and prided itself on its inclusivity. She didn’t understand the appeal of this place, cold and harsh and intimidating.

Robin was shaken from her mind by a tap on the passenger side window, and turned to see Cormoran on the other side of the glass. She smiled and opened the door for him.

“I have an order for one medium mocha with whipped cream?” he said, sliding into the seat next to Robin and handing her a steaming paper cup.

“Ah, thanks,” she said, “You’re a hero.” She gestured to the open package of Oreos on the space between them. “Help yourself to a biscuit or five.”

“Any movement from the Thumb-Thumb?” Cormoran asked, stuffing an Oreo into his mouth.

“Nothing yet. He seems pretty vanilla so far. Weights, bike, treadmill. Boring.” 

They sat in comfortable silence, sipping at their coffee. Cormoran didn’t have to be there, Robin was perfectly competent on her own, but she was glad for the company and flattered that he wanted to spend time with her. She liked sitting in stakeouts with him. They were often quiet, occasionally listening to the radio or chatting about their days. He had a calming presence, and made her laugh.

“How was lunch with April today?” he asked.

“Fine,” Robin said. Cormoran glanced up at her. Her tone was overly light, with a tight edge behind it. Usually Robin returned from her April lunches chatty and energetic. Cormoran was glad that Robin had found a good friend, somebody she could talk to besides himself and her mother. And April was a good match for Robin. When Robin had escaped from Matthew, she had run straight to April Wardle, and when Matthew followed her it had been April who answered the door with Eric’s baton in hand. The Wardles had let Robin stay on their sofa until things calmed down, and even in his unstable state Matthew had recognized that harassing Robin at a police officer’s house was a bad idea. A year later, the day the divorce was finalized, April had taken Robin out and they bought a whole new wardrobe at various thrift stores. They also went to some unknown shop and made various  _ purchases _ , which they refused to disclose to Cormoran but which made them giggle uproariously at any mention. April had taken Robin under her wing, helped her find an apartment, taken her to concerts and festivals. She loved history and was often lending Robin books on female revolutionaries around the world. They got lunch once a week, and Robin always came back filled with stories and facts about Harriet Tubman, Olive Morris, or Mary Seacole. So her silence seemed strange.

“Just fine?” Cormoran asked.

“Yup.” She wanted to change the subject. “I forgot to ask, how was your dinner with the Herberts last night?” she asked.

Cormoran turned red.

“Fine,” he said.

Robin grinned.

“Aren’t we both just the pair of conversationalists tonight?” she said.

“Well, I’m always bad at conversation. Coming from you, it’s more unusual.”

Robin sighed and rubbed the side of her face.

“Well... April just won’t shut up about how you and I would make a cute couple,” she said, “And I’m sick of it.”

Cormoran rolled his eyes.

“God, when will people stop going on about that?” he said, “It’s like a man and a woman can’t be coworkers without shagging.”

“It’s such heteronormative over-sexed bullshit,” Robin said. Cormoran tried not to smile at this. April was rubbing off on Robin, and he loved it.

“Nick and Ilsa kept on insinuating stuff too,” he said, “How well we worked together, how you were like one of the gang now, how you’re the right height for me...”

Robin laughed out loud.

“ _ Height!?” _ she crowed, “God, now they’re grasping.”

“You should hear Lucy. She’s always going on about how attractive you are.” He put on a high mocking voice. “‘Didn’t Robin look good in that blouse?’ ‘Wasn’t Robin gorgeous at lunch yesterday?’ Like God, Lucy, I know she’s gorgeous, that doesn’t mean we should have sex.”

Robin was grateful for the dark, because she was blushing like a hot plate. 

“Today April was talking about how you’re a sought after guy and won’t be single for long,” she said, “Whatever that’s supposed to mean.”

“Nobody knows how to mind their own business.”

“It’s ridiculous. I told her that when she says that she’s just proving her own point. The fact that you have all these options is just another reason why we shouldn’t get involved.”

Cormoran raised an eyebrow. 

“I don’t follow,” he said.

“I mean attraction is a two way street. If I’m just darting in to distract you before some other girl reels you in… that’s not really getting you, is it? That’s just dangling something shiny and hoping you catch my bait first.”

Cormoran snorted at this image. 

“I agree that attraction is a two way street,” he said, “And just because we work well together as partners doesn’t mean we’d make a good couple.”

“Exactly. Plus just because you want something, it doesn’t make it a good idea. Otherwise I’d eat ice cream for breakfast every day.”

Cormoran was quiet and Robin realized with a jolt what she’d said. 

“I mean, not necessarily that I want it—“ she started. 

“It’s okay,” cormoran said quickly, “I mean it’s not like I’ve never thought about it.”

“Right. I mean everyone can  _ think  _ about things. It’s doing them that’s different.”

“And being attracted to someone doesn’t mean that you’d be a good couple,” Cormoran said. 

“And even if we would make a good couple, it doesn’t mean that we’re attracted to each other,” Robin added. They were talking themselves into a tight little knot, and Cormoran had to think hard to remember what their point was. 

“I mean I can’t say I’ve never had  _ any _ attraction to you whatsoever,” Cormoran said. 

“Right, I mean it’s only natural, we spend every minute together,” Robin agreed.

“Not to mention all the intense situations we’ve been in together.”

“Right. Near death experiences, it makes a bond,” Robin said. 

“But that doesn’t mean we should be in a relationship.”

“Exactly.” 

They munched quietly on biscuits, contemplating all that had been said. 

“So… you have thought about it, though,” Robin said, finally. 

“Sure. Have you?”

“I mean yeah, I guess it could have been considered something of a crush. At one point. Not a serious thing, just very innocent.”

“When was this?”

Robin wondered what the least inappropriate answer could be.  _ Then, now, always _ . 

“Oh, you know, after I left Matthew, I was quite lonely,” she said, waving her hands around vaguely, “it wasn’t a big deal or anything.”

“I guess I felt the same way, earlier. I mean when you two split up the first time, I guess there was a part of me that wanted… Something.”

“That night in the hotel room?” Robin said, grinning. 

“You felt it too?”

“God, the tension. You could have cut it with a knife.”

“Thank god we didn’t do anything.”

“That would have been terrible.”

They each took another Oreo. Robin twisted hers apart, ate the top biscuit, then the cream, then the bottom biscuit. Cormoran shoved the whole thing into his mouth. 

“I do wonder sometimes…” Cormoran trailed off.

“I mean it’s impossible not to. We work so well together normally, it makes sense that we would…”

“Yes, but the stakes are so high. If it didn’t work out...”

Robin hummed in agreement and dipped her Oreo into her mocha, pondering. 

“Did you really used to find me attractive?” she said. 

“Used to? You are attractive. I’m not  _ blind.  _ There’s no denying that you’re a beautiful woman.” Robin smiled shyly and sipped at her drink to hide her blush. “Is that really so hard to believe?” Cormoran asked. 

“I’m not reaching, I promise,” she said, “I’ve just put on some weight this last year, that’s all.”

“Mm. Stakeouts do that. But no, if anything it just makes you more…” He cleared his throat, catching himself. “Better looking. More better looking.”

“So you find me attractive, but you’re not  _ attracted  _ to me.”

“I, ah…” He scratched his nose, staring out the window. “Let’s just say that I’m smart enough to ignore any such feelings.”

Robin felt her heartbeat fluttering around in her chest like a trapped bird. 

“I’m not that smart,” she said, “or I mean I am, I’m very smart, but that’s not why I don’t want to do… this.” She gestured between them. 

“Yeah? So what’s your reasoning?”

She chewed on her lips, trying to find the right words before she spoke. 

“I’m scared… of Matthew being right,” she said. Her voice was barely a whisper. Cormoran exhaled. 

“That’s… valid,” he said. 

“I know he shouldn’t have control over me anymore,” Robin said, “But I just can’t shake it. I don’t want to do anything that would make him feel justified. I don’t want to do anything that would let him off the hook for what he did.”

“What he did to you was inexcusable,” Cormoran said, “We could have been shagging on the kitchen table, it still wouldn’t have justified his actions.” 

Robin’s lip twitched at the hyperbole, but her eyes stayed serious. 

“I know, but other people… what they’d think, what they’d say…”

Robin had grown, strengthened, conquered and controlled her demons, but there were rare times when she still felt like the scared, small teenager from the courtroom, being blamed for her own assault. Cormoran nodded. He got it. 

“Is that all that’s stopping you?” He asked. 

“Well, like you said, attraction is a two way street, and if you didn’t feel the same way I wouldn’t want to make things weird or awkward—“

“And if I did feel the same way?”

Robin was confused. Was he teasing her? But his eyes were serious. She wondered how it had gotten so hot in the car.

“I guess if you did feel the same way… then yes, that would be all that was holding me back.”

“What other people think.”

“Yes. But it’s not a small issue. I mean it’s a big deal to me. I have a lot of trauma behind it.”

“What if…” He drummed his fingers on his thigh. “What if nobody had to know?”

“What?” 

The streetlight bounced off the side of his face, throwing his scars and rough angles into greater contrast. His expression was inscrutable. 

“Like you said earlier, what we do is nobody’s business but ours.”

“You would… you’d want that?”

“I would want to try. I mean I’ve always wondered…” He was closer now, and Robin could smell him, coffee and smoke and his detergent. 

“I’ve wondered too,” Robin said. She  _ had _ wondered, and in moments of past weakness she had let her gaze wander to his mouth, imagining the feeling of his lips on hers. 

Then she didn’t have to wonder anymore, because he was kissing her, gently, on her bottom lip. She let out a small gasp and her eyelashes fluttered. He pulled back and kissed her again, on the other side of her mouth. She tried to kiss him back, a bit off-centered, a bit late. They both smiled at the clumsiness. Then they came together again, this time matching, getting the other’s pressure and timing, relaxing into each other, breathing together, opening. Then they parted. 

“I guess…” she gasped, “I guess now we know.”

“Was it as good as you thought?”

Robin answered by running her hands through his hair and pulling him in again. 

  
  
  



	2. Keep an eye out

Robin called Shanker to a warehouse on Tuesday. She had been hired by a used car dealer who suspected one of his biggest suppliers was giving him stolen cars. Cormoran had another crucial undercover gig that evening, but considering the seediness of the situation he and Robin had both agreed that she needed some sort of protection at the dealership. So along came Shanker, impromptu bodyguard.

The dealership was filled with cars, and Robin went to each one, carefully reciting the serial numbers while Shanker looked them up in a database for stolen vehicles. Robin had been granted access to this database several months previous, when she had gone on a few dates with an auto theft investigator. The relationship had fallen apart, but her membership to the database remained.

“2840… 1158… 2335… 91256...” Robin recited from under a 1972 Datsun. Shanker typed the numbers in and waited for it to search. 

“Not stolen.”

“Awesome. Next.”

She moved over to a Pontiac and bent down to search for the number. Her trousers sagged a bit as she bent, showing a generous expanse of red panties with white polka-dots and lace. Shanker couldn’t help but admire the view.

“Is my underwear showing?” Robin asked.

“The red polka-dotted ones?” Shanker said, “No, they’re not, please carry on.” Robin flipped him off as she hiked up her jeans, making Shanker giggle.

“Not much of a lookout if you’re distracted by one glimpse of a lady’s drawers,” she grumbled.

“I got two eyes, don’t I? I can do both.”

“7569… 9453… 2315… 56811…” she read.

“That car is stolen,” Shanker said. 

Robin slid out from underneath and marked the Pontiac on her list. 

“Don’t you have a girlfriend now, anyways?" she asked, "Why are you looking at my ass when you have Alyssa’s waiting for you back home?” 

“Alyssa doesn’t mind,” he said, “She’s a stripper, remember? She doesn’t give a hoot about my wandering eyes.”

“How is she, anyways?”

“She’s grand,” Shanker said, “We’re doing great. She’s going back to night school to become a pulbo- flubber- whatever the fuck-”

“Phlebotomist?” Robin lifted the hood of a Volvo, the last car she had to check.

“That’s the one.”

“That’s wonderful to hear,” she said, “How are the girls?”

“They’re great. They're still working through some shit. But me an’ those kids, we’re tight. We got things in common. My mum’s boyfriend was the same way as Brockbank. Then with Whittaker and Lucy…” He realized that he was sharing too much and shook his head. “Lyssa’s got them in a kiddie support group. Can you believe that? A support group, at their age. But they like it.”

“I’m glad you’ve found a family,” Robin said. She meant it. She would hardly recommend Shanker as boyfriend material for anybody, but his encounter with Alyssa and Brockbank three years prior had stirred a primal protective instinct within him, and he had grown attached to Alyssa and her girls like a bear with its cubs. She read off the last seventeen-digit number, and Shanker ran it through the database.

“Also stolen,” he said. Robin marked it off and shut the hood.

“That’s it,” she said, “That was the last one. Three stolen cars, six clean ones.”

“Not bad.” He sat on the hood of a Camry. “Now listen, I been wanting to talk to you,” he said, “About Bunsen.”

“Oh. Okay,” Robin said, trying to keep her tone steady.  _ Surely he doesn’t already know?  _

“I think he’s seeing somebody,” Shanker said, “Although he’s keeping close-lipped about it.”

Robin carefully arranged her neutral face. 

“First I’ve heard of it,” she said, “What makes you say that?”

“First, he went out and got a haircut. Normally he just trims it himself and ends up looking like he had a run in with a lawnmower. He only gets it professionally done when he’s seeing someone.”

“Maybe he’s just gotten better at cutting his own hair,” Robin said.

Shanker shot Robin a sideways glance. 

“Alright, yeah, that’s unlikely,” Robin conceded.

“Plus he just seems happy. Relaxed. Some girl’s got him whipped, I know it.”

Robin turned to hide her smile.

“I don’t think anybody could get Cormoran whipped,” she said.

“I heard him humming to himself the other day.  _ Humming! _ ” He made it sound like a dirty word.

“I’m glad he’s happy,” Robin said.

“Ah, me too,” Shanker said, “But the fact that he’s keeping it secret makes me nervous. I asked Gander, he hasn’t told her either.”

“Who?”

“Lucy. I call her Gander. You know, Lucy Goosey Gander.” 

Robin nodded, touched. She had never known Lucy and Shanker to be close, but she could envision Shanker stepping up to the plate to protect her from Whittaker, the way he had with Angel and Zahara. 

“Now I get it,” Shanker continued, “Bunsen and I, we’re different. Don’t always talk about our personal lives. Better that way. But him not telling Gander, his own sister, that’s something else entirely.”

“I’m sure he has his reasons,” Robin said. She wiped her hands on her jeans and sat back on a tire.

“Oh, yeh, I bet he has reasons, but usually they’re shit ones. He’s not always very smart with women, you know.”

“You didn’t like Charlotte either, then,” Robin said.

“Who did? I tolerated her better than everbody else. I like violence in a woman. And she thought I was funny. But nah, in the end she was just shit. You can’t dress up shit. And it wasn’t just Charlotte, either. You should have seen some of the ass he chased when we were teenagers. There was this one girl, Mila, we were seventeen. God, she was a world class nutter, but somehow he was so obsessed.”

“Nutter how?”

“Ah, you know, she would do anything for a bit of power. Bit of money. Sleep with anybody, steal from anybody, betray anybody. Which is fine, I’m all for it, but Bunsen wanted her for ‘imself. He’s a romantic, really. He thought she had a good heart. Ha! Call it mummy issues, I don’t know. He likes girls who need saving.”

“Well, maybe he’s changed,” Robin said. Shanker grunted skeptically.

“If he’d changed, he’d be with you,” he said.

“How do you mean?”

“Well, you know, you’re good together. And you certainly don’t need saving.”

“I’m glad you think so, but I seem to remember you rescuing my ass at least once.”

“Different kind of saving.” Shanker sniffed. “Just keep an eye on him, would you?”

“I will.”  _ My eyes will be firmly on him, don’t you worry. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Shanker, and Alyssa, and I want them to get together and make beautiful babies and rule the seedy underbelly of London hand in hand, like the gorgeous morally-ambiguous vigilantes they are.


	3. Shankers Gonna Shank

Robin and Cormoran were laid out on the bed in a blissful haze. Robin was warm and content, her legs loose and floppy after an exemplary performance on Cormoran’s part. She had never experienced anything quite like it before; his selflessness in bed had overwhelmed her almost to tears. Now she was in a happy, sleepy, half-dream state, running her fingers through the hair on his chest.

“I should get going,” she murmured.

“Mm. Stay.”

Robin smiled and snuggled closer.

“Alright,” she said. Cormoran rumbled happily and kissed her on the forehead. 

“I won that one easily,” he said.

“You were very persuasive.” She curled her toes around his. “I haven’t seen you all day. How'd it go surveilling Doc?”

“He’s cheating. Quite daring about it too, right up against the window.”

“Makes our job simple." She considered. "I can't imagine being that careless. I wouldn’t do that even if we  were telling people about us.”

“I seem to remember you being quite careless on my desk last night,” Cormoran said. Robin smirked. 

“Not that careless. The door was locked and the shades were drawn.”

“Still risky."

"I suppose. What's the fun without a little risk, after all."

"Mm, yes. I certainly enjoyed it.”

“Shanker suspects that you have a girlfriend," Robin said, "He told me last week at the car dealership. He says you’re too happy.”

Cormoran smiled. 

“He’s not wrong,” he said, “I don’t think I’ve ever been happier.”

“Me neither.” She pulled back and looked at him for a moment. “Is this okay?” she asked, “The secrecy, the not telling anyone?”

“Yeah. I like it,” Cormoran said, “No drama. Nobody else getting involved. Gives us time to figure each other out.” He ran a hand through her hair. “However I do on occasion wish I could brag.”

His phone buzzed and he groaned.

“Take it,” Robin said, “It might be important.”

Cormoran rolled over and picked up the phone.

“Hullo?” His eyes went wide. “Jesus, what? By who? Where are you? Christ, yes, come on up. To my flat, I have supplies here.” He hung up and looked over at Robin, splayed out naked next to him. “Oh, fuck. Yeah, we should get on some clothes.”

“What happened?”

“It’s Shanker. Speak of the fucking devil. He got… well, shanked. About a block away. He’s coming over here to get patched up.”

“ _ Here?” _

“Yeah, put on your dress. Hide out in the office until the coast is clear.”

“Does he need help? I could help. We could pretend that I was working late, or…”

“If it’s bad I’ll text you. Go on downstairs.”

Robin couldn’t remember ever getting dressed so fast. She pulled on her dress with nothing on underneath, then scurried around getting on her shoes and gathering up her purse and bra. Cormoran tugged on his boxers and a T-shirt and started the laborious process of re-attaching his leg. Robin kissed him quickly on the lips, whispered “Call me when the coast is clear,” and pounded down the stairs two at a time.

Cormoran had just heard the office door shut below him when he heard Shanker’s laboured footfalls making their way up the stairs. He ran down to help Shanker up. 

Shanker was still standing, walking with the stiffness that comes when you’re trying desperately not to move one side. The wound was long, from waist to left pectoral, but to Cormoran’s relief it was bleeding the bright, almost orange color of a superficial wound, and not the deep purple of arterial blood.

“What happened?” Cormoran asked.

“I fell,” Shanker said with a smirk.

“And who exactly did you fall on?”

“Ah, this guy. Don’t worry, he came out a lot worse.”

“Shanker…”

“He’s still alive. He’s fine. Or he will be once his guys patch him up. He thought I was a CI, we got in a fight.”

“Jesus.” Cormoran unlocked the door to his flat and helped Shanker in. “You think you convinced him?”

“As best as I can.”

“Was it because of something you let slip to me?”

“Nah, I’m innocent of this one. This guy is just a paranoid old fucker.”

Cormoran sat Shanker down on the bed and opened his medical kit. It was a heavy-duty one, military-grade, a birthday gift from Robin after his run-in with Laing. He took out the pair of scissors and cut Shanker’s shirt off.

“I liked this shirt, too,” Shanker said. He drummed his fingers on his thigh. “We should get Robin up here,” he said, “I could use a female touch.” 

“It’s midnight, she’s at home by now,” Cormoran said, “Besides, you’re not hurt that bad. Doesn’t need stitches, although I’ll tape it.”

Shanker hissed as Cormoran ran a disinfecting swab over the wound. His eyes darted around the room, instinctively scanning it for any valuables. Shanker had no intention of actually taking anything, but old habits die hard and he couldn’t help but case the place while Cormoran taped up his wound. 

It was a simple room, sparsely decorated. There was a photo of Nick and Ilsas wedding day on a bookcase, and another of Cormoran and Lucy as children on the dresser. Everything was neatly organized and put away. Then Shanker’s eyes caught a flash of red on the floor, and his face split into a slow, wicked smile.

“Say Bunsen, I didn’t interrupt you with a girl, did I?”

“Wot?”

“Somebody forgot their pants,” Shanker said, gesturing to the lacey undergarment in the corner. Cormoran looked over and flushed scarlet.

“Ah. Yes. Those are from last night, actually. I had a woman over.”

“Must be serious, letting her up to your place.”

“Nah, not really. Just, you know. Having fun.”

Shanker nodded and grinned. He had seen that red polka-dotted satin before.


	4. Under the Desk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit naughty! Yay! Sorry it's short today.

“God, I’ve never…” Cormoran said, catching his breath, “I usually last at least…  _ Where did you learn how to do that? _ ” 

Robin wiped her mouth and grinned up at him from where she was kneeling under his desk. 

“The internet, boss,” she said, resting her chin on his knee, “You should try it some time.”

“That was incredible.” Cormoran leaned back and ran his hands over his face. “But I’m not your boss, I’m your partner. You need to stop calling me that.”

“Yes, but calling you partner makes us sound like cowboys. And don’t deny that my calling you boss turns you on.”

“Maybe I’ll start calling you boss too. Even it out a bit. I do believe in reciprocation, after all.”

“Mm I like the sound of that,” Robin said. 

Cormoran grinned and zipped up his trousers. 

“We have to stop doing it in the office, boss,” he said, “We’re going to get caught.”

“We don’t have any appointments, and the day is almost--” She was interrupted by the sound of the outer door opening. They both froze, eyes wide.

“ _ You didn’t lock the door? _ ” she hissed.

“I thought you did.”

“Stick?” came a call from outside. 

“Shit, I forgot!” Cormoran whispered, hurriedly doing up his belt, “I told Lucy I’d get dinner.”

Robin glanced down at herself. Half her blouse buttons were still undone, and there was a long stain down her front. She shrank back further under the desk. 

“Stick?” Lucy called again. 

“Hi Lucy,” Cormoran said, checking that Robin couldn’t be seen, “Come on back.”

Robin shook her head and kicked Cormoran in his good leg, but it was too late. Lucy was peering into the office. 

“No Robin today?” Lucy said. 

“Nah, she’s out. Said to tell you hello, though.” 

Robin rolled her eyes. 

“Pity, I was hoping to see her,” Lucy said, “I like Robin.” Cormoran reached down, pretending to scratch his knee, and ruffled Robin’s hair. She bit his fingers. 

“She’s very likable,” Cormoran said, straightening, “I’m glad you two get along.”

“Still no chance you two-“

“Nope.”

“You make such a good-“

“Nope.” 

“Fine,” Lucy huffed, “But don’t deny that you fancy her.” 

“Come on, Lucy, we’ve been over this before.” 

“You wouldn’t be throwing her such an extravagant surprise birthday party if you didn’t fancy her,” Lucy said.

Robin had to clasp her hands over her mouth to cover her gasp, and even then she would have been heard had Cormoran not taken that moment to push his mug off the edge of the desk.

“ _ Al _ right,” he said loudly, “I think it’s time we go.”

“Are you okay Stick?” Lucy said, “You look flushed.”

“I’m fine.”

The door shut and Cormoran and Lucy’s voices receded down the hall, leaving robin dumbfounded behind them. 


	5. Mrs Bogdan

“Miss Bogdan, please, have a seat,” Robin said.

Their client was an older woman with a receding hairline and constantly wringing hands. Her eyes were a wide watery blue, and her makeup didn’t seem to fit her face.

“How can we help you today?” Cormoran asked.

“My son Alex has gone missing and I don’t know what to do,” the woman said. She took a photograph out of her purse. It was of a teenage boy with a young sweet face and curly dark hair. 

“Have you spoken to the police?” Robin said.

“I have. Both here and in Coventry. That’s where we’re from, you know. Or near it. In Rednal.”

“And what did the police say?”

“They said that because he ran away, and was eighteen, they couldn’t do anything about it.”

“And you know he ran away, and wasn’t kidnapped?” Cormoran asked.

“Yes. He was involved in a bad crowd back home. Took all his things, left a note.” She pulled a crumpled note out of her purse and placed it on top of the photograph. Cormoran read,

_ I’m sorry, but I have to go. Hopefully someday you’ll understand. I love you, Alex. _

“And you believe that your son came to London?” he asked

“Yes. He always dreamed of coming here. His bedroom was covered in photographs of London, and he took just enough money from my bank account to buy a ticket.”

“Do you have any idea where he might go here? Does he have friends, family? Interests?”

“He loves music, and always wanted to play music on the street. Crazy child. Why play on the street? Play in a music hall, play in a concert, but no. He wanted street music. He wanted to play for the people.”

“Did he leave with anybody?” Cormoran asked, “A friend? A lover?”

“No. He never had any girlfriends, not many friends either. He was bullied a lot at school. My son…” She sighed. “He’s not completely right in the head.”

“How do you mean?”

“He thinks he’s things he’s not. People he’s not. I…” She wiped at her eyes with her sleeve. “I didn’t know what to do. There was a program that was willing to take him, but he didn’t want to go. I think that’s why he ran away.” 

“Is he officially diagnosed?”

She shook her head. 

“The doctors were no good. They didn’t understand. He had friends on the internet, I think, who encouraged this thinking. He was texting his friends online all the time. Who knows who people are, when you can’t see their faces, hear their voices? He could be talking to elderly pedophiles!”

“Do you know anything about these friends? Anything at all?”

“Just that they lived in London.”

“Alright, we’re going to do everything we can to find your boy,” Robin said, “But Miss Bogdan, he is eighteen and an adult. We can find him, but we can’t make him do anything.”

“But he’s sick in the head--”

“There’s no diagnosis, and he’s legally an adult. We can reach out to him for you, but that’s it.”

 

By the time Miss Bogdan left, Robin was feeling decidedly un-festive. She ran her hands over her face and sighed.

“I’m sorry, Cormoran, I’m just not feeling celebratory tonight. I know you planned a big surprise party, but I just don’t know how I can play the part.”

“What part?”

“Surprised. Happy. Bubbly hostess.”

Cormoran pulled her onto his lap.

“Then don’t.”

“But-” Robin started. Cormoran kissed her.

“Be who you are. Everybody there loves you. They don’t care if you’re not Martha Stewart.” 

Robin sighed and rested her forehead on his.

“Why are you so good to me?” She murmured, half to herself. 

“Well if you haven’t noticed, I have a bit of a crush on you.” He tightened his hands around her waist. “You think I’m agreeing to all this secrecy for you. Which is a huge part of it. But I like it too. I like that we’re keeping it… relaxed. Chill.” He kissed her. “I am so happy with you. Exactly where we are.”

They sat like that, silent, foreheads touching, soaking in each other’s presence, listening to each other’s breathing. Finally Cormoran broke the silence. 

“We should go,” he said, “I told April we’d be there at six.”

Robin whined a bit in protest. 

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Cormoran said. 

  
  


“I need to practice my surprised face,” Robin said outside. 

“Oh I think you’ll be plenty surprised,” Cormoran said. 

“I’m not entirely sure how,” Robin said, “I know you’re throwing a party. I know it’s at Eric and April’s. It’s not like I have many friends besides the Herberts and Lucy. I doubt Shanker and Alyssa would come, they’re hardly the type.” 

Cormoran just smirked and knocked on the door. April answered, looking as dazzling as ever in a white flapper style dress and bleached white bob. 

“Come on back,” she said, “Come into the living room.”

Robin shot Cormoran a weary glance as they followed April down the hall.

“SURPRISE!”

Cormoran was correct, Robin was surprised. He might as well have transferred half of masham to London. Her parents, brothers, cousins, uncles. Alyssa was there with the girls, Lucy and the boys. Her Zumba mates and her kickboxing instructor. Everybody was there, cheering. She turned to Cormoran, jaw dropped. 

“How… What…”

“You surprised?” he asked.

“I’m an investigator! How did you pull this over on me!”

“Takes an investigator to fool an investigator.”


	6. Victoria

The party was lovely. Cormoran had pulled out all the stops. Food was eaten and wine was poured, toasts were given, conversation flowed. Music started playing and April led everybody in the Electric Slide with cheers and applause.

It had been two years since Matthew had cracked and locked Robin up in the flat. She had been trapped in there for two days until she managed to climb out a window and run to April’s house. In the year that followed, a strange, mismatched community had risen up around her: family, old friends, women from support groups, Lucy, Nick and Ilsa, Eric and April Wardle, Shanker and Alyssa. And somehow Cormoran had managed to track down all of these people, find a space for all of them, organize their information, and get them all here. 

He had even hunted down and invited Robin’s cousin Victoria, Robin’s oldest childhood friend. Matthew had never particularly liked Victoria, he had considered her very small-town and basic, so she and Robin had grown apart over the years. After the divorce, however, Victoria and Robin had reconnected and regained some of their old bond, texting nearly every day. Robin had returned to Masham to visit Victoria, who was teaching at the secondary school there, but Victoria had never been to London. So when Cormoran had invited the family, Victoria had jumped on the opportunity to visit. Now she and Robin paired up and looked out over the crowd dancing in the Wardles’ living room.

“So your boss…” Victoria said, “You and him…”

“It’s not like that,” Robin said hurriedly, “We’re just friends.”

“Mm.” Victoria took a sip of sangria. “Is he seeing anybody then?”

“Wot? Cormoran? Er, no. Not that I know of. No.”

“He’s quite rugged, isn’t he,” Victoria said, “I like that in a man. Maybe you could introduce us?”

“I… I don’t see any reason why not.”

Robin led Victoria over to Cormoran. She could practically feel Victoria inflating her bosoms beside her.

“Uh, Cormoran, this is my cousin Victoria, who I’ve told you about. We grew up together, and she’s one of my oldest friends. She currently teaches English and History at the secondary school in Masham.”

Cormorans eyebrows shot up. 

“Is that so.” He held his hand out for Victoria to shake. “I studied classical literature at University,” he said.

“I love the classics!” Victoria gushed, “Virgil is my favorite poet of all time.”

Victoria was beautiful, thin and blonde, and when she looked at Cormoran she reminded Robin of a bird of prey. Cormoran was very friendly, and soon he and Victoria were in a conversation about classic poetry. 

Robin knew Cormoran had studied the classics in school, and he had a habit of quoting poetry to her at particularly romantic moments. She never completely knew how to respond when he did this. Her knowledge of poetry consisted of the basement spoken word nights that April took her to, none of which was very romantic. 

Victoria laughed and put her hand on Cormoran’s arm in the age old Blanche DuBois gesture of “ _ Stahp _ , you’re just  _ killing _ me”. Robin tried not to roll her eyes and retreated to the snack table. 

She observed them from behind a glass of wine. He seemed to be enjoying himself well enough. He threw his head back and laughed at something Victoria said, and Robin felt a twist of jealousy in her gut.  _ It’s not like you’re official, _ an evil little voice whispered in the back of her mind,  _ All you’ve done is shagged a few times, it’s not like you have a claim on him. _

Linda and Michael sauntered up to join Robin.

“Well they look quite chummy,” Linda said, looking over at Cormoran and Victoria, “They would be a nice match, I think.” 

Robin plastered on a blithe smile.

“She’s certainly his type,” she said mildly.

“Are you seeing anybody?” Linda asked.

“Not really. My schedule doesn’t make dating easy.” 

Michael sighed.

“My daughter is married to her work,” he said.

“I am,” Robin said, “And it’s a very happy marriage.”

“I’m very proud of you, baby,” Linda said, “The way you’ve come through.”

“Thanks, Mum.”

Linda leaned in.

“Is that a rash?” she asked, touching Robin’s neck, “You’re all red and bumpy here.”

Robin’s eyes widened. Her neck and chest were covered in stubble burn. 

“Oh, yeah, I used this new detergent,” she said coolly, “It gave me a terrible allergic reaction.”

Robin saw Cormoran excusing himself from Victoria and ducking into the wine cellar.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Robin said, “I think the wine is starting to run out.”

She was feeling tipsy and jealous and suddenly anxious about the state of their secret relationship, all of which made her quite reckless.

Cormoran turned when he heard Robin shut and bolt the door behind her. 

“Hey you,” he said, smiling. Robin put her arms around his neck and kissed him hungrily, pushing him up against the wall.

“Hey,” she whispered into his mouth.

“You missed me?” Cormoran said, running his hand down her ass. Robin pressed her body against his and kissed an answer.

“I know one person who’ll be missing you,” she said, finally. 

“Who?”

“My cousin Victoria.” Robin bit him on the earlobe. “She thinks you’re cute.” Cormoran pulled back, grinning. 

“Robin Ellacott, are you jealous?” 

“Don’t sound so bloody pleased about it,” Robin said, smiling into his neck. Outside, a slow song started playing and Cormoran started swaying gently. 

“You don’t have to be jealous over me, you know,” he said, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“No?” She was teasing, but there was a hint of reality hiding behind the question. 

“No. I’m staying in this wine cellar until we both die.”

“Mm. Sounds nice.” She could feel his pulse against her cheek. 

“Robin?”

“Mm?”

“I know we’re keeping this casual… but would you like to… go out with me?”

“Isn't that what we did last night? And the night before?”

“No, last night we went to the Tottenham for drinks and then had hot nasty sex.”

“I happen to enjoy hot nasty sex,” Robin said. 

“God, me too. But I mean a date. You know, we wear something nice, go to a nice restaurant somewhere nobody will recognize us. Then maybe go to a movie or a play or just walk around. _Then_ go home and have hot nasty sex.”

“That does sound nice.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah." She pulled back to look him in the eye. "Let’s go out on a date.” 

“We could go somewhere where we won’t know anybody, and we could be like an actual couple.”

“Mm. Somewhere we could hold hands in public.”

“Of course.”

Robin rested her forehead against his. 

“Going on a date. Does that make you my boyfriend?” she asked. 

“Like I said. I’m not going anywhere.”


	7. Nothing escapes our notice

Nick had managed to book dinner reservations at Zaza in Bushey for his anniversary with Ilsa. Ilsa usually didn’t like fine dining, as they inevitably ran into some lawyer acquaintance or other and the conversation turned to work and all romance flew out the window. This time, however, Nick chose a restaurant that was intentionally out of the way from their usual haunts. 

It had been a trying year for them both. They had both sworn that they wouldn’t fall for any more false positives, they wouldn’t get their hopes up, they’d stay realistic and keep trying all their options. But then it had happened again, and they had fallen for it as hard as ever. It felt as though Ilsa’s body was playing pranks on them, holding out just long enough for them to get a spark of excitement, then slamming her with an extra heavy period three weeks late. She tried not to look in the toilet afterwards, tried not to imagine what the blood in the bowl could have grown into. Nick was lovely, of course, but it was a strain on both of them, and he got tired of always having to be encouraging. So yes, it had been a trying year for them both. They ate in silence, unsure of what to say. They couldn’t wax poetic about how happy they were together, and reminiscing about their wedding day just seemed sad. 

Finally, and to Ilsa’s great relief, Nick broke the silence.

“Look,” he said, “It’s Oggy and Ellacott.”

Ilsa turned, and, sure enough, Cormoran was across the room, pulling out Robin’s chair for her to sit. 

“Let’s go say hello,” Nick said, making to stand. Ilsa grabbed his arm.

“Nick, no. They must be undercover. We can’t blow it for them.” 

Nick nodded, seeing the wisdom in this, and sat back down.

“I wonder who they’re tailing,” he said, scanning the room.

“Maybe the cougar over there?” Ilsa said, jerking her head at an older woman covered in fur and jewels, who was sitting with a much younger man. 

“Don’t be disgusting,” Nick said, grinning, “He’s got her exact same nose, they’re clearly related.” He peered about. “Okay, don’t turn around, but— I said  _ don’t  _ Ilsa, Jesus!”

Ilsa had swiveled her head around like an owl hungry for prey, staring at the couple sitting behind them. She turned back with a triumphant smile.

“Potential,” she whispered, “He’s wearing a ring, she isn’t. They could definitely be having an affair.”

“You are very observant,” Nick said, “You should be the detective, not Oggy.”

They looked back at Cormoran and Robin. 

“They’re sure good at what they do,” Nick said, “I would have no idea that they were observing anybody but each other.”

“They do play the part of happy couple very well.” She snuck an oyster from Nick’s plate. “I’ve resigned myself to the fact that they’ll never get together, but I am glad that they have each other as friends.”

“I could see them being the type to do a marriage pact, you know?” Nick said, “If they’re both still single at fifty type thing.”

“Robin won’t be single at fifty,” Ilsa said, “She won’t be single in a week.”

“I think deep down they know that they’re right for each other. I mean just look at the way she looks at him.”

“You don’t think they could actually be on a date, do you?” Ilsa asked. Nick barely considered before shaking his head.

“Nah. He’d have told me.”

They watched as Cormoran took Robin’s hand in his, threading their fingers together. He said something that made her blush and smile, then she said something that made him throw back his head in laughter.

“You’re probably right,” Ilsa said, “I mean why would they keep it a secret?”

“I feel a bit strange surveilling them as they surveil somebody else,” Nick said, taking out his phone, “Maybe we should shoot them a text.”

 

Cormoran and Robin’s phones both pinged at once, and they both glanced down.

“It’s Nick,” Cormoran said.

“Mine is from Ilsa.”

“Oh God, they’re here.”

They both looked over to where Nick and Ilsa were giving them little conspiratorial finger waves.

“What are they doing here?” Cormoran asked, “I tried so hard to get a restaurant outside of the usual areas.”

Robin’s phone pinged again and the anxiety on her face dissolved into a slow smile.

“We’re safe,” she said, “Ilsa wants to know who we’re surveilling." 

“Well this is a role reversal,” Cormoran said, “Normally we pretend that we  _ aren’t _ tailing somebody.”

“So we’re pretending that we’re not a couple, who’s pretending to be a couple, so that the people who are watching us think we’re watching somebody else?” Robin asked.

“I’m up for the challenge,” Cormoran said.

“Who should we be watching?”

“The couple to their left?”

“I can see it. He seems a bit lecherous.”

Robin texted Ilsa  _ “The couple to your left. Big hair, glasses.” _

They both giggled as Nick and Ilsa tried to subtly scan the room.

“I can’t believe they’re falling for this,” Cormoran said.

“I’m not that surprised. I can scarcely believe that we’re together either, and I’ve witnessed it all with my own eyes.”

“True. I’m still not entirely sure why you haven’t run away screaming yet. And you’ve seen me naked, too,” Cormoran said.

“You’ve had plenty of beautiful women admire your naked body, I don’t know why I’m such a surprise.”

Cormoran turned ernest.

“Because you’re different. I’ve never been with anybody like you before. I don’t know if I’ve ever even  _ met _ anybody like you before.” He searched for words. “You’re just so…  _ nice _ .”

Robin rolled her eyes, beaming.

“God, not that word again.”

“You’re like a sexy Mother Theresa,” Cormoran said. Robin threw a tomato at his face.

 

Nick and Ilsa left the restaurant full and content. It had been a good meal and a fun evening.

“So we’ve been married thirteen years now,” Ilsa said as they walked to their station, “If our marriage was a person it would officially be a teenager.”

“Our marriage is starting to get spots and slam doors,” Nick said. He grew serious. “I know we’ve gone through hard times this year, but I want you to know, I’d rather have hard times with you than easy times with anybody else.”

“Me too.” She slid her arm around Nick’s waist. “I’d rather be in a dumpster with you, than a yacht with… Tom Hardy,” he said.

“I’d rather be in a sewer with you than a beach house with Jessica Alba.”

“I’d rather be in a prison cell with you than a luxury hotel with Neel Sachdev.”

“Who?”

“He was named the sexiest lawyer in the UK last year.”

“Ah. Well, I’m very honored.”

Ilsa snuggled in closer.

“I had a good time tonight,” she said.

“Me too. It was fun getting a glimpse of Oggy and Robin’s work.”

“I think we were pretty good at it.”

“You were fantastic. Noticing that the guy had a ring, and the woman didn’t? That’s some great detective work.”

“We should help them out more often.”

“Nothing escapes our notice.”

“Nothing.”


	8. Reasons

 

They spent the next week stalking the Underground for street musicians who might guide them towards Alex Bogdan. They pretended to be talent scouts and approached dozens of street musicians with the boy’s photo, claiming that he was a singer they had spotted and lost track of. All of the musicians shook their heads and apologized. A few musicians gave them free demo tapes, hoping for a big break, which, in a fit of guilt, Cormoran sent on anonymously to an actual talent agent.

 

Robin spent Friday casing Trafalgar Square. She was about to head home when she got a text from Cormoran.

“ _ Turn around.” _

She spun around to see Cormoran weaving through the crowd towards her. She grinned and waved.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I’m heading to Nick and Ilsa’s to watch the game,” he said, “Ilsa asked if you’d come too.”

“Absolutely,” Robin said. They started to make their way to the train station.

“Any luck today?” Cormoran asked. Robin’s face fell and she sighed.

“Somebody saw Alex performing at Picadilly three nights ago,” she said.

“That’s good news,” Cormoran said, “What’s with the long face?”

“This doesn’t feel right,” Robin said.

“What doesn’t?”

“Snooping. My job is exposing secrets, and suddenly I have a secret that I don’t want exposed. I feel like a hypocrite.” 

Cormoran nodded but didn’t know what to say. Robin shot him a sideways glance.

“Isn’t this where you tell me that I need to stay professional?” she asked. Cormoran shrugged.

“I think you know what is and isn’t professional,” he said, “And how much to trust your gut.” They headed into the station and waited for their train in silence. 

“It’s not because of you, you know,” Robin said suddenly.

“What?”

“Keeping it secret. I’m not keeping our relationship a secret because I’m…  _ embarrassed _ of you or anything.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time a woman kept me quiet for that reason. I’m hardly a meet-the-parents type.”

“Yeah well that’s not the issue here,” Robin said, “I’d love to show you off. Honestly, I want so badly to walk hand-in-hand with you, or kiss you goodnight in public, or introduce you as my boyfriend.”

“But?”

Their train arrived with a gust of wind and they got on. Mre people got on the train and she found herself being pressed and nudged from different directions. 

Robin shook her head. The train was too crowded, too noisy, too rushed.

“I’ll tell you later.”

They rode in silence, swaying along with the motion of the car as it rushed along through the dark tunnels below the city’s surface. They got off, shuttled their way along with the great tide of people, got on again, got off again, and emerged into the fall evening with a burst of warm air.

Finally it was quiet enough to speak.

“So?” Cormoran asked, as they made their way to Nick and Ilsa’s. Robin buried her hands deep in her pockets.

“After…” she started, then paused to think. The sun was going down, turning everything purple and orange. A wind ran through them both, and Robin shivered. “After. At the trial. It felt like everybody was thinking that… Well that I’d deserved it. Because they thought I’d wanted it. That I’d asked for it. And everybody was picking apart my intentions, asking if the man had been justified, asking if I had deserved it, that eventually… Well eventually I started maybe believing that I had gotten what I’d deserved. Because I’d been joking about missing Matthew, because I’d been wearing such a tiny outfit, and because I was lonely and horny and a bit drunk. And I know that’s total bullshit, I do. But I’m saying, the things they thought and the things they said, it picked apart my brain until I was completely threadbare.”

Cormoran didn’t ask who “they” were. They didn’t have names. They didn’t need names. The lawyers, the school bullies, the witnesses, they had molded together into one amorphous mass, transforming from specific judgmental assholes to “everybody,” a monster left unconquered even after Robin’s rapist was behind bars.

“Then when Matthew went apeshit and locked me up,” Robin continued, “I could feel those monsters in my head again, saying that I deserved it, and that he was justified, because I had feelings for you.” Cormoran tried to say something, and Robin held up her hand. “Hear me out. I dealt with those monsters in my head. It was hard, but I dealt with them.” They were about a block from nick and ilsas place, and Robin slowed to a stop. “Cormoran, if I had to face those voices out loud…” She shook her head. “I’m just scared. That’s all. It’s got nothing to do with you.”

“Okay,” Cormoran said. 

“Okay?”

“I’m glad it’s not because of me.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “And… if you ever have to face those voices, in your head or otherwise… Just know that you never have to face them alone.”

Robin smiled at her feet. 

“Now do you want to go get drunk and yell at a tv screen with us?” Cormoran asked. 


	9. Confession Drunk

 

They ordered Chinese food, then sat in front of the TV and watched the football game. After about an hour they had finished off two bottles of wine, and Robin and Ilsa slipped off into the kitchen. They cracked open another bottle of wine, then sat on the kitchen floor and ate the ice cream out of the carton with spoons. They were a bit more than tipsy, that level of drunkenness where everything is funny and everybody is beautiful. 

“It’s not that I don’t like football,” Ilsa said, “I just prefer the women’s teams.”

“Ah, yes, the ladies teams are more violent,” Robin said, “But I’ve never really been a passionate football fan, not really. I like racecars. And hockey.”

“Ah, yes, cars. Cormoran mentioned that.”

“Pass the wine would you?” Robin asked. Ilsa obliged, after taking a long pull from the bottle.

“I’m the perfect level of inebriation,” Ilsa said, “Not doing anything regrettable, but no inhibitions, either.” 

Robin hummed in agreement.

“There’s a very specific type of almost-drunkenness that always ends in ice-cream and girly confessions,” Robin said.

“Ahhh slumber party drunk,” Ilsa said.

“Truth-or-dare drunk.”

“Hit on strangers drunk.”

“Question your sexuality drunk.” 

“What was the verdict?” Ilsa asked. 

“Most definitely straight,” Robin said, “I appreciate the female form as a work of art, but…”

“But it ain’t dick,” Ilsa said, grinning. 

“Quite so.” 

Ilsa savored a spoonful of ice-cream. 

“What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done drunk?” Ilsa asked.

“Are we on the truth portion of truth-or-dare drunk?” Robin asked. “I went streaking once.”

“Really!” Ilsa looked impressed.

“Yeah, with my cousin Victoria. Not as exciting as it sounds, there wasn’t anybody around. We ran into the ocean.” She laughed at the memory. “It was very cold.” 

“Was that the cousin who was hitting on Cormoran at your party?”

“The very same.” Robin felt herself blushing and tried to think of some way to change the subject before Ilsa could follow up. “What’s the weirdest sex thing you’ve ever done?” Robin said.

“Don’t change the subject,” Ilsa said.

“You’re the one changing the subject here,” Robin said.

“Alright, fine. Weirdest sex thing… We once…” Ilsa could barely keep from giggling. “He’d  _ kill _ me if he knew I was telling you this.” Her voice lowered to a stage whisper. “I gave Nick a butt-plug once.”

“No!”

“Yeah. Well, he’s a scientist, you know, he’s all about experimenting. And he’s a gastroenterologist, so he’s often studying the… posterior regions…” They both doubled over with giggles.

“Was it good?” Robin asked.

“Meh. Not bad. It was fun to try out something new. Never did it again, though.” Robin nodded and ate another spoonful of cookie dough. “What about you?” Ilsa asked, “Ever done something especially daring?”

“Nothing really crazy. Matthew was very vanilla. Been with a couple guys since.” She considered. They had done it on Cormoran’s desk several times, but she could hardly say that without giving their relationship away. “Blindfolded, tied up… normal stuff. Matthew and I tried the Cosmo donut trick once. Did not work.” She drummed her fingers on her lips, considering. “I did it in a park once.”

“Really! I’ve never done it in a public place. Do tell.”

“I was on a stakeout, at night, in a park. This guy I was dating wanted to come along, to act as bodyguard and to experience the job. We were in a secluded place... And he got down under my dress... And…” She blushed as Ilsa cheered. 

“So you got in the bushes and he  _ got in the bushes.” _

Cormoran and Nick stumbled in and sat on the floor next to Ilsa and Robin. 

“Who won?” Ilsa asked. 

“Arsenal,” Nick said, pouting. 

“Aw, I’m sorry baby,” Ilsa said, kissing him. 

Robin stood, a bit wobbly. 

“If you’ll excuse me,” she said, “I’m going to use your toilet.” She tottered out. 

“What were you two lovely ladies laughing about in here?” Nick asked. Ilsa chuckled. 

“Our weirdest sex things,” she said. 

“Did you tell her about…?”

“No, the other one.”

Nick turned to Cormoran. 

“I once got an endoscope from work,” Nick said, “and we filmed a sex tape.  _ From the inside.” _

Cormoran covered his ears. 

“Jesus, Nick! That’s disgusting!”

“I’m a scientist. We experiment. Besides, don’t tell me that you and Charlotte never did anything completely insane. I’m sure she was into some weird shit.”

“I mean tying me up and calling me daddy. Not performing medical experiments on me.”

“So what’s the most daring thing you’ve ever done?” Ilsa asked. 

“Mm. Done it in the office before.” He thought for a moment, then remembered. “There was this one time. I was on a stakeout and this woman wanted to come along, you know, keep me company. I guess we got a little carried away, and… I went down on her right there in the park.”

Ilsa had been taking another slug of wine and snorted it out her nose. Nick thumped her on the back several times as she coughed and sputtered. 

“Sorry,” she said, “what girl was this?”

“You never met her,” Cormoran said, “A while back.”

“You never bring anybody along on stakeouts,” Ilsa said, grinning slyly. “You must have liked her a lot.”

Cormoran leaned back against the refrigerator and smiled.

“Love, baby. It makes us do crazy things.”


	10. And In the Middle a Turtle Dove

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was trying to write a whole thing about how Ilsa tries to trick Cormoran and Robin into spilling the beans, but I just couldn't find the proper situation for it. So I'm doing this instead.

 

Robin found Alex Bogdan playing at Picadilly the next day. She knew that she should take his photograph and report back to his mother immediately, but she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. Not yet. So she sat back on a bench and watched him play. He didn’t look like he was eighteen, with his round face and soft features, but he sang with talent beyond his years. He performed mostly folk songs, old sad ballads about star-crossed lovers, and he sang with such naked emotion that Robin felt as though she should look away. 

_ “Now dig my grave both long and deep _

_ A marble stone, both head and feet _

_ And in the middle a turtle dove _

_ To show the wide world I died for love.” _

He stood like a stone in a stream as commuters hurried back and forth, occasionally dropping coins into his open case. Pigeons fluttered by him, and children would stop and listen for as long as they could before being tugged along by their parents. Robin stayed on a bench just out of sight and let the music wash over her. His voice was high and clear and painfully sad, and Robin left without ever taking his photograph.

 

After the divorce, Robin had slept on April and Eric’s sofa before moving in with April’s uncle. April’s uncle was an ancient eccentric, an 80-year-old sailor named Earl who claimed that he was “married only to the sea”. To the great anxiety of all, Earl insisted on sailing in spite of his age, on an old sailboat named The Fickle Temptress. When he was home, Robin made sure that he had food and took his medication, but otherwise they mostly stayed out of each other’s way. This week he was out on a voyage, so Robin had the place to herself. Naturally she took the opportunity to invite Cormoran over for the first time.

Cormoran looked around curiously at the maritime theme. There was a giant figurehead of a naked woman in the living room, and artifacts from Earl’s voyages around the world were on all the bookshelves. Cormoran felt instantly at home there.

Robin didn’t tell Cormoran that she had found Alex Bogdan until they were into their second helping of dinner. 

“What!” Cormoran said, “That’s excellent! Case closed.”

Robin shrugged. 

“Yeah I guess,” she said.

Cormoran raised an eyebrow.

“You sound less than positive,” he said.

Robin sighed. 

“I don’t know. I just can’t shake the feeling that there’s something weird going on.”

“How so?”

“The mum says he’s sick, but no doctors give him a diagnosis? She wants him sent off to a special program to be cured but he runs away instead? Just what are we sending this kid back to?”

“We’re not sending him anywhere. We’re just helping his mother know that he’s alive and safe.”

“I know. But safe from what?”

They ate in silence for a few minutes, considering. 

“It’s not our job to be moral judges,” Cormoran said, “All we do is expose the truth. Once you get emotionally involved everything falls apart.”

“What if everything falls apart either way?”

Cormoran smiled. 

“And that’s why we need each other,” he said, “Balance.”

“We can tell her, but not quite yet,” Robin said.

“How long?”

“Two weeks.”

“How about Friday?”

“Fine. But I want to tell the kid first.”

Cormoran sucked in his breath. 

“Robin…”

She held his gaze, her chin stuck out.

“Fine,” he said. 

They resumed eating, but Robin felt his eyes on her. 

“What?” She asked 

“Nothing.” He grinned. “I don’t know if it’s your stubbornness, your compassion, or the healthy communication we just had, but I am so turned on right now.”


	11. Chapter 11

Ilsa met Robin the next day for ice-cream and a walk in the park. After several minutes of idle talk, Ilsa sat up a little straighter.

“Listen, Robin, I was wondering if I could ask you a favor,” Ilsa said. 

“Yes?”

“My sister… She’s pregnant.”

“Oh my goodness, congratulations! You’re going to be an auntie!”

Ilsas smile was tight around the edges. 

“Yes, it will be wonderful.” She picked at the skin around her thumbnail. “We’re all going down there in a few weeks for the shower. Me and Nick, Lucy and her whole tribe, Cormoran. It’s been years since we were all there at once. It will be good to be back. But…” Ilsa looked down and shook her head. “I can’t have children, Robin.”

“What!”

“My uterine lining is too weak. Any time an egg gets started, it just… slides right on out.”

Robin considered this, nodding slowly.

“Do you... want children?” Robin asked. Ilsa smiled weakly.

“You’re great, you know that?” she said, “You’re the first person who’s actually asked that. Everybody else just gives condolences.” 

“That’s what finally pushed Matthew over the edge,” Robin said, “I refused to give up the job to be a stay at home mom.”

“Well to answer your question, yes, I do. I’ve always wanted to be a mom,” Ilsa said, “It’s like a physical hunger. And I can’t.”

“I’m sorry.”

“So now my kid sister, six years younger, is having a baby instead.”

“That can’t be easy on you.”

“In some ways it’s better. A grandchild will get my mum off my back. But yeah, it’s not going to be an easy weekend. Which is where the favor comes in.”

“Anything.”

“Will you come with me?”

Robin was completely taken aback. 

“To Cornwall?” she asked.

“I know it’s a lot to ask…” Ilsa said.

“Is your family okay with that?”

“Absolutely. My sister hasn’t had an easy time of it either. It’s not great timing. She really young, and has struggled with addiction. She just got sober a year ago, and was planning on going back to school. Her boyfriend is a sweet guy, but pretty inept. Now…” Ilsa realized that she was giving more information than she had initially intended. “Anyways, my mum wants a big crowd there to show their support. It’s a bit like a wedding, really. And you’re friends with me,  _ and _ Cormoran,  _ and _ Lucy, so you’re basically part of the family.”

“I’d love to come along. But… why?”

“Well, Cormoran is one of my closest friends, but he’s shit at comforting. And Lucy… Well, Lucy is Lucy. She dithers and obsesses. Nick is too close to the whole thing.” She shrugged. “Plus it would just be fun.”

“Have you talked to Cormoran about it?”

“Yes, and he’s all for it. He’d ask you himself if he wasn’t so scared of revealing your secret.”

Robin tried to stay cool, smiling slightly.

“Which secret is that again?”

“That you two got naughty in the park on a stakeout." Ilsa licked ice-cream off her spoon. "I must say, you really had us fooled.”

“How-“ 

“He gave the exact same answer to the question that night.”

Robin’s shoulders sank.

“I’m sorry,” Robin said, “I really should have told you. It’s not that I don’t trust you guys, it’s just… Complicated.”

“I figured. I mean you trusted me enough to tell me that you’d gone dogging, so I wasn’t that upset.”

“We most certainly did not! Nobody  _ saw _ us.”

“That you know of.”

Robin shook her head, grinning.

“He really said that that was the craziest sex thing he’s ever done?” she said.

“Besides Charlotte’s mild Oedipus Complex, yes.”

“Oh god, gross.”

“So will you come?” Ilsa asked.

“Absolutely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was wanting a trip to Cornwall to be part of the How It Happened series, but now I'm thinking it's better here. Cheers!


	12. Alex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken so long. My boyfriend dropped a surprise visit on me, WHICH WAS AWESOME. I haven't seen him in six months. So I haven't been writing much, but now I think I'm back in the saddle.

Alex Bogdan didn’t return to Picadilly for several days, and Robin worried that she’d lost him for good. But on Friday her luck returned and he was back again, singing like his heart would break. Robin picked a cafe where she could observe him from a distance. She liked watching him. He had incredible talent, that was undeniable, and he sang songs Robin hadn’t heard since she was a child. She noticed that his clothes were dirty and ragged, and he was skinnier than the photo his mother had given to Robin. Robin wondered how much he made in a day, and how he could afford to live in London off of a busker's salary.

 

She waited until midday, when he started packing up his guitar and getting ready to go, and walked over to him.

“Alex? Alex Bogdan?”

The boy jumped like he’d been shocked. 

“Sorry,” Robin said, “I didn’t mean to bother you. My name is Ella. Ella Cotts. I’m studying journalism at the university and I’m writing a piece on buskers. I was wondering—“

“I’m not interested,” Alex said, and started to walk away.

“It wouldn’t take up any of your time—“

“I said I’m not interested.”

He was about to descend into the station when Robin shouted “Alex, you’re not safe!”

Alex stopped and didn’t turn. 

“Your mother is looking for you,” Robin said, “Please, I won’t tell her where you are, just let me buy you lunch.”

 

Lunch meant tea and soup and sandwiches and crisps and a scone and more tea. Alex ate with two-handed gusto, and Robin suspected that He had been tempted more by the food than by the promise of information. 

“I’m a private investigator,” Robin explained as he ate, “My name is Robin Ellacott.”

“Ella Cotts?” Alex said dryly, “That’s clever.”

“Your mother approached me several weeks ago. She said that you ran away from home.”

“Let me guess, she said I was mentally unstable.”

“Yes.”

Alex sighed and leaned back in his chair. 

“I’m not schizophrenic,” he said, “I’m gay. I like boys.”

Robin leaned back, confused.

“I… What?” she asked.

“I know. Homophobia is dead, right? This is the twenty first century.” He barked out a bitter laugh. “My family is still stuck in the olden days. My dad is a Russian biker, my mum was born and bred on deep religion.”

“So the program that’s willing to take you…”

“Yep. The UK may have cracked down on conversion therapy, but in the United States its still going strong. They’ve got my plane ticket reserved and everything.”

“I spoke with your mother. If she just knew you were safe… She’s just worried about you. She wants to know you’re okay.”

“I’m okay now that I’m out of that house.” Alex ran his hands over his face. “I mentioned that my dad is a Russian biker, right? He escaped to the UK when he got in an altercation with the head of the Night Wolves. When you told me I was in danger I stopped because I thought it was my dad who was looking for me, not my mum.” He shook his head. “The conversion therapy was my mum’s way of appeasing him. Showing him that I could be fixed. As far as he’s concerned it’s better that I’m not around at all.”

“I’m sorry,” Robin said. She tugged at her teabag. “I won’t tell her where you are.”

“Doesn’t matter, really. If you don’t she’ll just hire somebody else.” He looked down at his hands. “Guess I’d better find somewhere else to go.” 

“Do you have anywhere else?”

“No.” He sighed. “Fuck my life.”

"I'm sorry," Robin said again.

“Can I tell you something?” Alex said, “I went on a date with a boy here. We went to dinner and on the way home… he took my hand.” He sniffed. “I started crying, as we walked. Do you understand? Something so minor. Holding hands. And I couldn’t… I just broke down in tears. Growing up, I had never thought that I would ever experience that. Just to walk openly with the person I love, with no fear of judgment.” He shook his head. “Christ, and you can do that every day. you have no  _ idea  _ how lucky you are.”

Robin put her head in her hands and wondered when detective work had gotten so  _ complicated _ . 


	13. Train to Cornwall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Give me your Cornwall prompts! I'm getting over really terrible creative block, so I am very open to ideas.

“Missus Bogdan, please, have a seat,” Robin said. Missus Bogdan sat. 

"Please, call me Sylvia."

“Alright Sylvia," Robin said, "I asked around, showed some photographs, and I found some of your son’s friends.” Sylvia's face lit up with hope.

“Yes?”

“They told me that your son was in London, but he left.”

Her face fell.

“He left? Where to?”

“He told his friends he’s going up north.”

“North? Why north?" Sylvia's hands twisted in her lap. "Alex isn’t good up north, he’ll catch cold. He was always catching cold as a baby.”

“His friends all say that he’s happy and healthy. You don’t have to worry about that. He told them that he’s going to be staying with a family up there and helping on their horse farm.”

Sylvia smiled slightly.

“He always did love horses. It’s his daddy in him. We sent him to horse camp every summer.” She sniffed. “And you couldn’t find out any more?”

“I’m afraid not,” Robin said, “He didn’t tell any of his friends where he was going.” She paused, wondering how much she should say. “He’s afraid of his father,” she added warily. To her surprise, Sylvia nodded.

“My husband can be difficult,” Sylvia said, “I think I’m the only one not afraid of him, honestly. He doesn’t believe that Alex is sick. He thinks he’s just acting out, out of anger. He thinks Alex needs discipline.”

“You know, being on his own might be good for Alex,” Robin said, “It’s perfectly natural for a young adult to want to travel out of his own.”

Sylvia wiped her eyes with her sleeve.

“He’s so young. He can barely cook pasta yet! How is he going to take care of himself?”

“There’s a family there who is going to take care of him. He’s going to be alright.” Robin pulled out a sheet of paper and slid it across the table. “I did some research, and I found something for you, as well. It’s a support group, held at the presbyterian church near you. It’s for parents in your situation.”

“Parents with missing children?”

“No, parents with gay children.” 

  
  


Robin stayed late with Sylvia, so she barely had time to run home and grab her suitcase before she had to dash back to Paddington Station. Cormoran was already on the train when she arrive, flustered and red-faced.

“Did Mrs. Bogdan take the support group information?” he asked, helping her slide her suitcase under her seat.

“She took it, but she wasn’t happy about it.” She sat next to him with a sigh of relief, finding comfort in the feeling of his thigh pressed against hers. "I think it would help. My mum and dad joined a group like that after Jonathan came out. They were accepting, of course, but it was still difficult, knowing that so many people would be against him”

“Where is Alex really?” he asked.

“Up north. I didn’t lie about that. My uncle needed help on the farm, and Alex is willing to work for room and board and a small allowance.”

“You never cease to impress me, you know that?” Cormoran said. Robin smiled and blushed, always unsure of how to respond to flattery.

“What should I know before going to St. Mawes?” she asked, changing the subject. Cormoran considered this.

“We’ll be staying with my aunt and uncle. My Aunt Joan is very religious, so don’t be surprised by her collection of crucifixes from around the world.”

“Sounds fascinating.”

“They vary in their level of gore.” He drummed his fingers on his cheek, thinking. “We’ll be in separate rooms, of course. The bad news is that you’ll be staying with Lucy in her childhood bedroom. The good news is that she sleeps like the dead, so if you want you can sneak into my room and we can still…”

“Canoodle?” Robin said, grinning. 

“Something like that. The bad news is that I am also sleeping in my childhood bedroom, so any hanky panky will be done under the watchful gaze of Captain Bear.”

“Captain Bear!?” 

Cormoran didn’t think he’d ever seen Robin look so delighted. 

“And his second in command, Doctor Buns,” he said.

Robin hooted with laughter. 

“And Ilsa's family?” she asked once she calmed down. 

“Her mum is Ruth, her dad is Barry. They live right next door to my aunt and uncle and I’m pretty sure Ruth and my aunt like each other more than they like their husbands. Ilsas middle name is Joan after my aunt.”

“That’s sweet.”

“Yeah. That’s why we’re all invited to Becca’s baby shower. We're basically cousins.”

“And tell me about Becca.”

Cormoran sighed. 

“Becca was a lot younger than us, so I don’t know her as well as I know Ilsa and Spanner. But Becca hasn’t had an easy time of it. Chronic depression, a series of abusive boyfriends, got hooked on drugs. She got clean, her life was getting back on track, she was planning on going to the local university. Then she got pregnant.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah. She struggled a lot with whether or not she’d keep the baby. But she’s already had two abortions and they took a psychological toll. She didn’t want a third.” His eyes grew sad. “Ilsa offered to adopt the baby, they were planning on it, but in the end they both decided that it would be best for the child to stay with its birth mother. Which was… not easy on Ilsa.”

Robin could suddenly see why Ilsa was so desperate for moral support. It wasn’t just that her sister was pregnant and Ilsa wasn’t. She was celebrating the baby that had almost been hers. 

“Becca and her boyfriend James both really scrambled and got their shit together. James went to rehab. They’re living with Ruth and Barry now, which hasn’t been easy. But James, he’s really trying. I think they’re going to end up okay.”

“It takes a village to raise a child,” Robin said, “And this child has an excellent village.”

“It’s funny, seeing how history repeats itself,” cormoran said, “Aunt Joan wanted children and had none, my mother didn’t want any and she had too many.”

Robin slid her hand in his. 

“And look how good you turned out,” she said. 


	14. St. Mawes

Lucy picked them up at the train station and drove them to Joan and Ted’s house. She chatted on about the boys, and gossip about the family, and what various St. Mawes friends had been up to. Robin only listened with half an ear, as she was completely lost in the views rushing past her outside. It had been a long time since she had been out of the city, and even longer since she’d been to the ocean. When surrounded by London it was easy to believe that the city was the whole world, an endless expanse of flats and multi-use buildings stacked on top of each other, compressed people crammed into cars and trains, flashing lights and honking cabs. Here it was quiet and still, just the rushing sound of the car heater and the gentle patter of light rain on the windows.

St. Mawes was beautiful, rows of peeling houses perched on rocky bluffs and sea-walls. One of those houses was Joan and Ted’s, a graying blue clapboard with wind blown flowers in the front planter. Joan was watering the flowers, and she turned when she saw the car pull in. She was at least six feet tall, almost as tall as Cormoran, though not half as broad. Her hair and skin were a shade of white-grey that made her look as if the salt air had washed out all of her color the way it had with the house. Robin had always imagined Joan to be stern and a bit severe, a Marilla Cuthburt type, but when Cormoran got out of the car Joan’s face lit up and she threw her hands up in the air with such vivacity that whole yard seemed to get more bright.

“Ah, Cormoran, me’ansome, come here,” Joan said, pulling him down for a kiss on the cheek, which he endured with minimal glowering. Robin grinned, suddenly struck with the image of Cormoran as a surly teenager, trying to evade the embarrassment of motherly affection.

“And you must be Robin,” Joan said, reaching out to greet Robin with a hug, “I’ve heard so much about you from Lucy and Ilsa.” She opened the door for them and ushered them inside. “I think Ted and Greg are out back with the boys. Ted promised them they could sleep out on the boat with him, which is a great excitement for them all.”

“And for me,” Lucy said, “A night without Greg and the boys, it’ll be like a proper vacation.”

“Greg is on the boat as well?” Robin asked.

“Yes, he loves boats,” Lucy said fondly, “He’s been talking about this for weeks.”

“You and Lucy will be sharing a room, I hope you don’t mind,” Joan said.

“Not at all,” Robin said, “It’ll be fun.”

Just then the screen door slammed open and Lucy’s three boys came storming through in an avalanche of childish machismo. 

“Boys, no running in the house!” Lucy barked, as the three of them hurdled past. “Come say hello to Uncle Cormoran and Robin.” The boys murmured half-hearted greetings before pounding upstairs to cause more trouble. Lucy rolled her eyes. 

The door slammed open again, and Greg came in followed by a beleaguered looking Ted, who was struggling to catch his breath. 

“Those boys,” Ted said to Greg, “I swear, I don’t know how you and Goose do it.” He saw Robin and stuck out his hand. “You must be Robin. I’m Ted.”

Robin looked from Ted to Cormoran and back again, blinking. It was like seeing Cormoran in a time machine. 

“We get that a lot,” Cormoran said, grinning. 

“Now you know where he gets his good looks,” Ted said.

 

Robin set her bags in Lucy’s room, then Ted took her on a tour of the house. It was small and neat, with wildflowers in vases and fancy soaps in the bathroom. There was indeed a wall of crucifixes from around the world, but Robin found them more beautiful than unnerving. Two cats, named Tommyknocker and Spriggin, rolled about in a beam of sun. 

There was a long hallway filled with photographs, and Robin lingered here, examining each one like it was a museum piece. Photographs of Joan and Ted on their wedding day, Joan and Ted at Lucy’s baby shower, Joan and Ted at Cormoran’s graduation. Robin’s eyes landed on an old sepia portrait of a beautiful woman with caramel skin. The woman’s dark hair was permed into perfect finger-waves, her eyes dark and slanted like Leda’s. Her lips were parted like she was about to speak, and half a smile hovered at the corners of her mouth.

“That’s my mother,” Ted said, “Edith. Cormoran’s grandmother. She came to Cornwall as a nurse in the war. You can see a bit of Leda in her, especially around the eyes.” He pointed to another old photograph of a man with a big square face and Cormoran’s broad shoulders. His hair was slicked back and he had a serious expression.

“That’s Theodore,” Ted said, “My father and my namesake. His accent was so strong you could barely make out a word he said. He spoke fluent Cornish, believe it or not.”

“I didn’t know many people still spoke that,” Robin said.

“They don’t. Technically it’s gone extinct as a first language.” He smiled fondly at the photograph. “My father actually introduced Joan and I. He taught Cornish and Welsh as extracurriculars at her school when we were teenagers. Joan has always had a love of old languages.”

Cormoran came up behind them.

“Aunt Joan is the one that got me interested in Latin,” Cormoran said, “She tried with Cornish but it never really stuck."

There was a photograph of Cormoran as a toddler, balanced on Ted’s shoulders. Tiny Cormoran was chubby and pink-cheeked in a blue romper, but already with a serious look in his eye. 

“He already looks like he’s got the weight of the world on his shoulders, doesn’t he,” Robin said.

“He always has,” Ted said, “He came out of his mother looking like that.”

The next photograph was Cormoran around the age of ten. He was no longer the cute chunky kid from before, and had quite rapidly progressed into his awkward faze. His face hadn’t entirely grown into his head, and was scrunched up like a crushed tin can between his massive chin and wide expanse of forehead. She couldn’t help but giggle. Cormoran rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh away. Like you never went through an awkward phase. Or are you telling me that you popped out of your mother looking like a supermodel.”

Robin shot him a warning glance, and he shrugged with mock innocence.

“So” Robin said, “When can I meet Captain Bear?”

  
  
  
  


Lucy had stayed in Cornwall much longer than Cormoran, well into her teens. As such her room was perfectly respectable, if a rather childish shade of pink. Cormoran, however, had left when he was younger, so his room remained largely a tribute to childhood. His walls were blue, with big puffy clouds painted on the ceiling and a lamp shaped like a rocketship. Most of the room had been turned into a storage space, but the bookshelves were still filled with The Chronicles of Narnia and The Hobbit and Treasure Island. On top of the bookshelf sat a raggedy brown bear who looked as if he had taken a dip in the sea more than once. 

“That’s Captain Bear,” Cormoran said. Robin reached out and shook the bears paw. 

“Pleased to meet you, Captain Bear,” she said, “Or should I salute?”

“Ah, no, he’s retired. A firm handshake is perfectly acceptable.”

Robin grinned and sat down on the bed, bouncing a bit.

“I like it in here,” she said. Her eyes flashed at him, darkening. “Nice roomy mattress.” Cormoran narrowed his eyes at her.

“I was a big kid,” he said, grinning, “I needed a lot of space.”

The sound of girlish shrieking came from the kitchen and Cormoran sighed. 

“That would be Becca,” he said. 

“We should go and say hello, then.” Robin said, standing. Before leaving the room she winked at the teddy bear. “I’ll see you later tonight, Captain Bear,” she said. 


	15. Aunt Joan

 

Dinner was a boisterous affair. Ted and Joan put extra leaves in the table, and everybody came over: Nick and Ilsa, Spanner, Becca and her boyfriend James, Ilsa’s parents, Lucy and the three boys. Robin sat a ways down the table from Cormoran and tried not to catch his eye too much.  _ If only he didn’t look so damn good. _ He was relaxed here, far from the stress and ghosts of London. Robin knew that it was fleeting. London was where they both belonged, and they both thrived on busy days and late nights. But every once in a while it was important to get away to a place where foghorns replaced the sounds of sirens. 

Robin had initially worried about intruding on Becca’s special day, but Becca was overjoyed at her presence. She was around Robins age, and clearly more than a bit eccentric. Her hair was hennaed red, and besides her massive pregnant belly she was skeletally thin. she spoke at least two decibels louder than necessary at all times, and her laugh was a shriek that made the cats run from the room. Robin liked her, but was secretly relieved that they weren’t staying in the same house.

“So Robin,” Becca asked, “You work with Corgi?”

“With what?” Robin asked.

“Corgi. Cormoran.”

“You call him  _ Corgi _ ?” Robin said, incredulous, “Like the fluffy sausage dogs with the bubble butts?” She turned to Cormoran, who wore a look of long suffering. “Just how many nicknames do you have?”

“Corm, Bunsen, Oggy, Stick," he listed, ticking off his fingers, “Diddy, Fed, Mystic Bob. And a few that aren’t for polite company.”

Robin turned back to Becca.

“Well, to answer your question, yes,” she said, “We’re business partners.”

“How fascinating. I’ve always been curious about your work. Have you always wanted to be a detective?”

“Well, yes, I suppose,” Robin said, “I always loved Nancy Drew, and when I was a kid I wanted to be a cop. But my brothers always told me that girls couldn’t be cops, so I let that dream go. Then the temp agency partnered me up with Cormoran, and…” She shrugged. “The rest is history.”

“What about you, Corgi, did you want to be an investigator when you were a kid?”

“Mm. Mostly I just lived in the moment,” Cormoran said, “Didn’t think much about the future. Focused on survival.”

Becca turned towards Lucy’s kids.

“What about you boys?” she asked, “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

“I want to be a soldier like Uncle Cormoran!” Jack crowed.

Robin saw a flash of sadness flick across Joan’s eyes, which nobody else seemed to notice.

“Is that so?” Becca said, “That’s very noble of you, wanting to help people.”

“Nah, I just wanna shoot the bad guys,” Jack said with a shit-eating grin. 

“Jack, don’t start,” Lucy said, warning in her voice. But Jack was already making machine gun noises and pretending to shoot everybody in sight. Joan stood abruptly.

“I’ll start the dishes,” she said, “I’ll take anybody’s plates, who’s done with them.”

“Blood and guts! Blood and guts!” Jack chanted. 

“You want to be an old cripple like Uncle Cormoran too, eh?” Cormoran asked Jack, with a self-deprecating smile. Not wanting to be left out, Jack’s younger brother Stevie decided to pipe in.

“Daddy says that when you get hurt helping somebody it’s called a badge of honor!” Stevie said. Robin noticed a faint flush rise on Cormoran’s forehead, but he took it in stride.

“Yes, well, some badges of honor aren’t worth the hurt,” he said, “And it doesn’t just hurt you. It hurts your family, it hurts the people around you. It causes all kind of hurt.” He turned to James, wanting to change the subject. “What about you, James, what did you want to be when you were a kid?”

Joan hadn’t emerged from the kitchen, so Robin quietly excused herself and went in to help with the washing up.

 

Joan was standing at the sink, staring into the water like it would show the future. 

“Joan?” Robin asked. 

Joan jumped and started hurriedly scrubbing at a pan. 

“Do you need help with the drying?” Robin asked. 

“Oh, no, thank you,” Joan said, “But I enjoy your company. Please have a seat.” Robin sat. 

“You have a lovely home,” Robin said.

“Thank you. This is where Cormoran and Lucy grew up, much of the time.”

“I’ve heard. Cormoran speaks very highly of his childhood here.”

“We tried.” Joan was unable to keep a tinge of melancholy out of her voice. “Are they still talking about war in there?”

“No. Cormoran changed the subject.”

“Good. I’m sorry they jumped to such a dark topic your first night here. It’s hardly dinner table appropriate.”

“Don’t worry about it. Cormoran and I are investigators, our dinner conversations usually involve much worse.”

“Are you and him… involved?”

“No,” Robin said, then hesitated. “I… It’s a complicated situation.”

“Nothing is ever simple, is it. Well, I’m glad he has you as a friend, either way.”

“We’re good for each other.”

Joan nodded. 

“I may not be his mother, but sometimes I think I worry as much as one.”

“He’s a difficult person to protect, that’s for sure,” Robin agreed. 

“That’s the truth. Always wanting to help people, even at his own expense. That’s his mother in him.”

“Was she that way? I don’t know much about her.”

“Sure, she wanted to help people. Mostly men. Mostly people who needed a kind of help that she couldn’t give. And often I think Cormoran felt like he was the only one around who could help her.”

“No child should have to worry about,” Robin said.

“After she died, he went to war so that he could save people, because he hadn’t been able to save her. And when he came home he chose Charlotte, a woman as alike to Leda as two eggs. Another woman to save.”

“It must have been incredibly difficult when he joined up.”

“Ah, yes.” Joan put a glass in the dish-drainer a bit more forcefully than necessary. “I thought once Ted got out of the army I wouldn’t be worrying anymore. Then Cormoran went and joined up, and my god, worry took on a whole new meaning. Ted is my husband, he’s his own person, he makes his own decisions. I knew that when I married him. But Cormoran…” She shook her head. “I helped him take his first steps. And then I had to help him take his first steps again, thirty-some years later. Nothing can prepare you for that phone call, telling them your child has been injured. You always expect it, but you’re never ready.”

“He doesn’t talk about it much.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t. He doesn’t like pity.”

“I know. I hate pity too.” Robin looked down at her fingers. “I don’t pity him. He’s probably the least pitiful person I know.” 

Joan wiped her hands on the dish towel and sat down at the table across from Robin.

“Enough about Cormoran, I want to get to know you better,"   Tell me about yourself. You’re from Yorkshire, yes?”

“Masham.”

“And you have any brothers and sisters?”

“Three brothers.”

“My goodness! What a masculine household that must have been! I was an only child, and I always wished I’d had a brother, so I would know more about boys.”

Robin laughed. 

“I knew more about boys than I ever wanted to. But let me tell you, they still never made any sense to me.”

 

When Cormoran poked his head in an hour later, Robin and Joan were sitting at the kitchen table, talking and laughing uproariously. He backed away, wondering vaguely if he should be concerned. 


	16. Turn the Bear to the Wall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Naughtiness is here, as per request.

He was right, Lucy slept like the dead. As soon as Lucy started snoring, Robin slipped out of bed and down the hall, to where Cormoran was sleeping. 

He was sitting up in bed reading when Robin came in. The lamplight bathed him in a soft gold glow that smoothed his features and stripped years of hardship away from his face. His hair was rumpled from the shower, his eyes relaxed and pleased to see her. Robin felt affection surge up in her chest so fast it nearly knocked her backwards. Alex Bogdan’s words echoed through her head.  _ You have no idea how lucky you are. _

Cormoran raised his eyebrows at her in question. Robin grinned, walked over to the bookshelf, and turned Captain Bear so that he was facing the wall. 

 

They had to move carefully, making sure to be silent. Cormoran was notoriously loud in the bedroom, which Robin generally enjoyed. Tonight though, she gave him a look and pressed a finger to her lips. Cormoran nodded. He may not be quite as intent on secrecy as Robin, but here, in the same house as his aunt, uncle, and sister, he was going to be as silent as the grave. 

Robin turned her back on him and slid off her dressing gown, revealing a T-shirt and nothing else. Cormoran gave a sharp intake of breath at the sight of her bare thighs and the curve of her ass peeking out from below the hem of the shirt. She looked over her shoulder at him with a reprimanding expression, and placed a finger again on her smiling lips. Then, far too slowly for his liking, she pulled off the T-shirt. 

Cormoran was not an overpowering or forceful lover, he normally let Robin take control. But he did know what he wanted, and he wasn’t too shy to ask for it. Now, though, he was trapped in a very vulnerable position. He couldn’t make any sound, and without his leg he couldn’t get up. So he was stuck watching her, silent and immobile, as she peeled off her shirt and stood there, naked, just out of reach. His fists clenched around his sheets. She paused just out of reach and let the tension build. 

Then she took one more step forward, allowing him into range, and he made his move. He lunged forward, grabbing her around the middle and pulling her in, so that she was sitting on his lap, her back to him. She covered her mouth in an attempt to suppress a giggle. He pushed Robin down face-first onto the bed and lifted her hips up to meet his.

Robin liked her dignity. She liked control, she liked class, she liked being polished and professional. She rarely let anybody see her unkempt or out of control. Only Cormoran. He was the only one she trusted enough to take over. He read her body like a book, his keen investigative skills observing every inch of her body, every hitch of breath and tensed muscle. He noticed what made her tighten up in discomfort and go limp in pleasure, and he remembered all of these things so as to improve future performance. So Robin could let go now, give up her tight reign of control, and let Cormoran show her new kinds of pleasure she had never thought possible before. 

He ran his hands from her shoulders down to her ass, warm, and with just a little bit of nail. He slid a knuckle between her cheeks to her aching, dripping slit, and she writhed against him, pushing her face against the mattress. He pulled away to tug off his pajamas, and then she could feel him, soft and hard at the same time, and so, so warm against her.

He always started slow, always gave her the opportunity to pull back or say no, and sometimes she did. But tonight there was no question, and when she felt him nudging into her she pushed back, urging him in. 

He eased into her, feeling as each layer of her inner muscles relaxed and adjusted to let him deeper. They both sighed a silent groan at the sensation, and Robin gripped at the bedsheets. He slowly shifted, barely moving, but she could feel every ridge rippling against her. 

Then he reached down and slid his fingers over her clit and Robin let out a high whimper that pierced the silence and shocked them both. Cormoran immediately stopped and clamped a hand over her mouth to shush her, and she grinned guiltily against his fingers. They stayed frozen in that position, eyes wide, waiting for any sign that they had been heard. The house was silent and still. 

Robin undulated her hips against him, making him gasp. She moved his hand from her mouth back down between her legs, and bit down on a pillow to stifle any more noise. 

It didn’t take much from there. They moved together, building a disjointed rhythm. As they sped up, their attempt at silence became impossible, and the room filled with the sounds of breathing and slick wet noises and the friction of skin on skin. They moved faster and faster, becoming loose and frenzied in their desire. 

Robin could feel it rising, an electric surge inside of her, and then the dam broke and she was shaking, howling into the pillow, her fingernails digging into her palms. Just as she thought the final wave had passed, Cormoran gave a sudden jerk and plunged himself wildly into her, and she was off again, consumed by heat and energy. She was out of control, completely powerless beneath him, lost in pure pleasure. 

 

After what felt like minutes, Cormoran collapsed on top of her, gasping for breath. Robin liked how heavy he was, like a weighted blanket. Finally he rolled off of her and they laid nose to nose, just looking at each other. Something strange happened when she stared into his eyes, some otherworldly communication that could not be translated into words at all. She was struck with his stark humanity, the fact that he was a separate person from herself, independent in all ways, but at the same time so similar to her in the deepest most indescribable way that it almost felt as though they were sprouting from one root. She wanted to ask him “ _ are you real?”  _ and  _ “Is this truly happening?” _

He smiled.

_ Yes. Yes, it is. _


	17. Sunrise

Nick had always been an early riser. He loved the silence of early morning, the promise behind it. A new day meant that nothing had gone wrong yet. Sunrises in Cornwall were his favorites. Ilsa sometimes joked that he loved her hometown more than she did. He largely agreed with this. For Ilsa, St Mawes carried the baggage of family drama and small town expectations. To Nick it still felt exotic, the polar opposite of his London upbringing. 

This morning he made himself a cup of coffee and walked down to the docks to watch the sunrise. There was a sharp chill in the autumn air, so he pulled a hat down over his ears and borrowed one of Ilsa’s scarves, deciding that the blue and grey stripes weren’t overly feminine. 

They hadn’t been to St Mawes since the Christmas before, and he pondered the past year as he leaned up against a high sea wall, coffee gripped in both hands. It hadn’t been an easy year, of course, but it had been slowly improving over the last month or so. Ilsa had gotten off the terrible hormone therapy that she’d been on, and they’d started going back to the way they’d been before, going on dates and teasing and joking. They’d even started having sex for  _ fun  _ again, after months of cold, tightly monitored attempts at intercourse for the sole purpose of procreation: her phone would beep, indicating peak fertility, she’d take her temperature, in, out, done. But things had been getting better. Their dinner conversations had begun involving more than just the acidity of her vaginal walls, or the consistency of her period. They were relaxing, accepting their infertility for what it was, and moving on. Ilsa was laughing more, and had started humming to herself again. It was good.

But now Nick was worried that seeing her sister pregnant would send Ilsa spiraling back into her depression again. He watched the sun rose over the water, turning everything gold and blue. It was hard to be anxious when the world was so beautiful.

He was pondering this when he heard a woman’s voice coming down from above him. 

“What a beautiful place to have grown up,” she was saying. Nick looked up. Robin and Cormoran were sitting directly above him on the high sea-wall. He could only see their legs hanging down, and he was completely invisible to them. He was about to stand up and say hello, when he heard Cormoran mention his name. 

“Nick always says that St. Mawes sunrises are the best he’s ever seen.”

Nick stayed still. To get up now would be awkward, and his wicked curiosity was itching to eavesdrop. 

“Do you think he knows?” Robin asked.

“About sunrises?”

“No, about us.”

Realization rolled over Nick in a slow wave.  _ About us. Us? _

“Ah. No. Ilsa’s a lawyer, she knows about confidentiality. Besides, if Nick knew he’d have said something.”

Now Nick’s ears were straining to hear more.  _ Ilsa, you sonofabitch, you knew this whole time! _

“So Ilsa is the only one who knows,” Robin said.

“I think Shanker knows.”

“Yeah?”

“He texted me reminding me to ‘wrap it before you tap it.’”

“Dear Shanker. Both poetic and original.” 

They watched the sun rise quietly. Then Cormoran broke the silence again.

“Do you ever wonder at how unreal this feels?” He said.

“How so?”

“I mean it’s too good. There’s no conflict. That makes me uneasy. I mean look, I’m sitting here in the most beautiful place on earth, with the woman I love.” He shrugged. “What’s the catch?”

“The ice caps are melting,” Robin said. Cormoran laughed. “You want a catch, there’s the catch,” she said, “In twenty years St. Mawes will be under water, and we’ll be wandering the post apocalyptic wasteland like Mad Max.”

“God, it will be like Mad Max, won’t it. Great movie, though.”

“True.” She sighed contentedly. “And there’s nobody I’d rather wander the wasteland with than you.”


	18. The Force is Strong With This One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, LW comes out today, and when we get it we're not gonna be reading anything else. But in the meantime!

It was an Star Wars themed baby shower, with lightsabers made out of grapes on skewers and balloons in the shape of death stars and TIE fighters. Becca wore a shirt with the Death Star on her big pregnant belly that said “THAT’S NO MOON…” and James wore a T-shirt with Darth Vader on it, that said “LUKE, I AM THE FATHER”. 

They mingled, eating “Seven Leia Dip” and “Han Burgers”. They did blindfolded diaper changes, baby food taste-testing, and guessed how big Becca’s belly was. Cormoran introduced Robin to friends and family, many of whom he hadn’t seen in years. She tried to remember all of their names, but after a while all the faces started blurring into each other and she could feel the beginnings of a headache percolating behind her eyes. She wasn’t sure how to introduce herself. Was she Cormoran’s business partner? Ilsa’s friend? Lucy’s friend? 

Finally they all gathered around in a circle to watch Becca open her gifts. The gender was to be revealed later on in the afternoon, so all of the gifts were in gender neutral shades. Robin had gotten the baby a selection of her personal favorite children’s books: The Little Fur Family, Everyday Babies, and Mama Do You Love Me. Cormoran got two onesies reading “My mummy doesn’t want your advice,” and “Let the wild rumpus begin”. 

Robin had complicated feelings about children. She liked them, for small amounts of time. Her brother Stephen had recently become a father, and Robin was quite fond of her baby niece, Mary-Lynda. But at the same time, Cormoran’s nephews overwhelmed and exhausted her within seconds, and she couldn’t imagine having to be their mum full-time. Nothing got her buying condoms faster than a visit with Lucy’s boys. Robin’s thoughts on child rearing really all came down to the enormity of commitment it took. You didn’t know what you were going to get, not really, and once you had one you were stuck with it for the rest of your life. What if she gave birth to a mad psychopath who murdered their neighbors? Of course it was more likely that she would have a perfectly normal child, who she loved very much. But was it worth it? Even if she didn’t give up her job to raise the child, it would make radical changes to the business, and the financial strain would be more than her salary could handle. Plus, she had heard kids nowadays loved playing with slime. Slime, of all things! It just wasn’t worth it.

So she didn’t want children. Not yet, at least. Not for a good long time. But still, when Becca opened up the tiny baby booties shaped like converse high-tops, it stirred something deep in Robin’s gut. They were so small Cormoran could put them on fingers and make them dance. He caught her eye and she looked down, blushing slightly.

“This next gift is a very special one,” Ruth said, “It’s from Gramma June.”

“But Gramma…” Becca started, then stopped. She tore open the rapping and gasped.

“This is the baby blanket that your grandmother made for me,” Ruth said, “She carried me home from the hospital in it. And it’s the one I used to carry home all three of you kids when you were born. Now, it’s been cleaned and repaired and resewn many times since then, so it’s a little bit different. But it’s still basically the same one. And now you can use it to bring home your little one.”

The whole party oohed and ahhed and exclaimed at the beauty and significance of the gift. Only Robin noticed Ilsa slipping quietly from the room.

 

Robin found Ilsa in Lucy's room, her head in her hands. Robin sat on the bed next to her and rubbed her shoulders, letting her cry.

“I’m sorry,” Ilsa said, once she’d calmed down enough to speak, “I’m off my hormone medication, which means I’m full of testosterone and it’s giving me mood swings. That’s all.”

“Don’t invalidate your feelings,” Robin said, pulling a packet of tissues from her pocket, “You have every reason to be upset.”

“I know I should be happy for her. And I am, I mean she’s doing so well. Better than I’ve seen her in years.”

“But?”

“But I’m sad. I’m sad and I’m bitter and I’m jealous.”

“That’s completely understandable. It’s hardly fair.”

“We always said that the blanket would be mine. Which sounds very petty, but none of the others ever showed any interest in it. By giving it to Becca, my mum is showing that she’s given up on me.” Ilsa instinctively moved a hand to her stomach. “And can I blame her? I’m nearly forty.”

Robin was about to answer when the door swung open and Joan came in. She took in the room with one glance: Ilsa’s smeared makeup, Robin’s concerned expression, the hand on the belly, the tissues.

Ilsa quickly wiped her eyes and tried for a smile.

“Hello Joan,” she said, her voice still a bit hoarse, “How are you?”

“Better than you, apparently,” Joan said, sitting down on Ilsa’s other side.

“I’ll be fine,” Ilsa said, “Really, you should go back out there.”

“They’ll survive without me for a bit. How are you?” 

“My mum always told me that everything was a part of God’s plan,” Ilsa said. She paused to blow her nose loudly. “I have to say that God is a really shit planner.”

Joan smiled at this and shook her head.

“My, how history repeats itself,” she said, “This is exactly the state I was in when Leda brought Cormoran home for the first time.”

Realization dawned on Ilsa’s face.

“I always thought...”

“I was childless by choice? Mm. It’s true that when I was younger I never really felt compelled. I didn’t want children when Ted was in the army all the time. Didn’t want to be a single mum. Then I learned that I had scar tissue from an infection when I was younger, and couldn’t have kids anyways. My mother was horrified, of course, but I didn’t particularly care. Then…” She sighed. “Then Leda gave birth to Cormoran. She came down here to have him. He was born in this very house, in our bathtub. And I held him, this red-faced wrinkled little thing, and my soul, I’ve never wanted anything more.”

“I’m sorry,” Ilsa said.

“Don’t be. I love Cormoran and Lucy like my own. And I have amazing God-children in you and Spencer and Becca.”

“Why didn’t you adopt them?” Ilsa asked, “Cormoran and Lucy?”

“We were afraid to bring it up. It was such a tenuous situation with Leda. Unless we could prove that she was unfit, we couldn’t take the children from her against her will. And if we tried to prove her as unfit and failed, there’s no way she would let us see the children again. Not to mention that the children loved her, in spite of her shortcomings, and they wanted to be with her. And she was Ted’s sister, and that was a bridge he was unwilling to burn.” She pulled Ilsa close. “What I’m trying to say is that there’s a lot of different ways to be a mum. And whichever way you end up going, you’re going to be great at it.”


	19. How Lucky I Am

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end! But don't worry, I'm not done with Lethal White but I'm already coming up with new ideas.

After gifts, Becca and James led the whole party down to the beach for the gender reveal. To Robin’s dismay, a large bucket of black water balloons was sitting out on the beach, and the entire party was given long white lab coats to wear over their clothes.

“Right now, this baby is just a little spark of life, just a tiny glimmer on the ultrasound,” Becca said, “But soon this baby will be a big beautiful explosion of life. So to commemorate just how messy and beautiful and colorful this baby is, we’re inviting you all to come and join us in revealing the baby’s gender, by way of…” She held up a water balloon. “A PAINT FIGHT!”

Robin shot Cormoran a pained expression.

“If I tell them that gender is a social construct, will I get to sit this one out?” she whispered in her ear. Cormoran tried not to snort. “If I ever have kids I’m not going to have a gender reveal,” she continued, “Instead I’m going to have a biological sex reveal. I’ll open a package that says ‘your baby has a penis’. Just to point out how weird it all is.”

“I approve of this wholeheartedly,” Cormoran said, “But just because I think gender reveals are overrated doesn’t for one second mean that I’m not going to destroy you with a paint balloon.”

Robin grinned up at him.

“Gonna have to catch me first.”

Becca blew a whistle and almost immediately the air filled with flying balloons and bursts of bright blue paint. Becca shrieked when she saw the color and immediately lept on James, embracing him, both weeping copiously. Robin paused to look at them, smiling fondly, when she felt a hard smack on her shoulder and cold paint seeping through her shirt. Cormoran was looking at her with mischief in his eye. He shrugged, lifting his two empty hands heavenward. Robin narrowed her eyes at him, then pounced, hitting him square across the side of the head with her balloon. He was caught by surprise and jumped backwards, but couldn’t quite catch himself in time. Robin reached out to try to catch him, and their legs tangled, he was too heavy and over-balanced, and he fell on top on her on the sand.

“Oh my God,” Robin gasped around poorly-concealed laughter, “I’m so sorry, are you okay? Did I-”

He tried to look surly, but he couldn’t keep the big goofy grin off his face, and he blinked down at her like he was drunk. He looked ten years younger, loose and relaxed and disheveled. 

Robin couldn’t help herself. He was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen, a long drip of blue paint running down his nose, and before she could talk herself out of it she was pulling him down and kissing him hard of the mouth, the whole world watching. 

After several long, perfect moments, she released him, and he pulled back, beaming. 

“What was that for, then?” He asked. 

“Just realizing how lucky I am.”


End file.
